8. Calder
Calder
The coffee shop Ethan had chosen wasn’t my usual hangout spot and for that, I was grateful.
I knew the staff at the other shop and the last thing I wanted was them asking a bunch of questions.
Besides, I wasn’t seeing Ethan because I wanted to.
Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.
We were meeting so I could get more information about the cattle attacks. That was it. Nothing more. Nada.
However, the moment he walked through that door, my heart started pounding a mile a minute.
He'd done something different with his hair this time, pushed it back from his forehead in a way that made those mesmerizing green eyes more prominent.
Damn it. I'd been hoping my memory had embellished how attractive he was. I still didn’t understand why he had such an effect on me.
"Hey," he said, sliding into the seat across from me with a hesitant smile. "Thanks for meeting me."
I cleared my throat. "Like I said, this is strictly professional. I'm only here because I want to know what you've found out about the attacks."
"Right." His smile faltered slightly. "Professional."
The waitress appeared before the awkward silence could stretch too long. Ethan ordered some fancy latte with extra whipped cream, which somehow didn't surprise me. I stuck with black coffee, ignoring the way his eyes lingered on my face.
"So," I said once she'd left, "what exactly do you want to know that wasn't in the official reports?"
Ethan leaned forward, that intense focus I remembered from our first meeting returning to his expression.
"The pattern doesn't make sense. These aren't normal—” He stopped himself suddenly, shaking his head.
The scent of fear filled the air around him.
“Well, I mean, cattle attacks are odd, right?” He tried to laugh it off.
“Like is this a cryptid thing or just somebody messing with people?”
My wolf stirred beneath my skin, suddenly alert. Why was he suddenly so fearful? Clearly he’d stopped himself from telling me what he knew. Why was he on his guard?
“You seem… uneasy,” I said, keeping my voice low.
Ethan's fingers twitched against the table. "Uneasy? No, I'm fine."
"Your heart is racing," I said before I could stop myself.
His eyes widened. "How could you possibly know that?" He paused, scrutinizing me with a new intensity.
I mentally kicked myself. Stupid wolf senses making me slip up. "You look tense,” I said, trying to cover it up. “And I can see the artery in your neck,” I added, pointing toward it.
The waitress returned with our drinks, and Ethan immediately buried his face in whipped cream, leaving a small white dot on the tip of his nose. Despite myself, I found it endearing.
"Look," he said, voice lower now, "I don’t know you that well and I’ve been told to keep some distance from this case. There’s things I can’t talk about.”
I raised an eyebrow, my interest piqued. "Been told by whom?"
Ethan wiped the whipped cream from his nose, his gaze darting around the coffee shop as if checking for eavesdroppers. "People involved have told me to keep quiet. Including the police.”
There was something about the way he said it and the sudden quickening on his pulse that told me he wasn’t being truthful. I could smell the anxiety on him like a spice on the breeze. Clearly he knew more than he was letting on, but I knew if I continued to push, he would run.
“So… is that the only reason you called me back here?” Ethan asked, a hopeful look in his eyes as he lifted his gaze.
I hesitated, caught off guard by the hopeful undertone in his voice. The truth was, I should have just told him to leave it alone and walked away. That would have been the smart thing to do. But those goddamn green eyes… I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.
"What other reason would there be?" I asked, my voice gruffer than I intended.
His cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked down at his ridiculous whipped cream mountain. "I don't know. Maybe you enjoyed our conversation last time? Despite how short it was."
My wolf stirred again, this time with interest rather than suspicion. I tamped it down firmly. Getting involved with a human—especially a nosy journalist—was the last thing I needed right now. The pack had enough problems with these attacks drawing attention to our territory.
"I think you're reading too much into things," I said, taking a sip of my coffee.
"Right." Ethan nodded, his disappointment evident despite his attempt to hide it. "Strictly professional."
The scent of his disappointment made something in my chest twist uncomfortably. I found myself wanting to say something to make that look on his face go away, which was ridiculous. He took another sip of his latte, leaving a fresh dot of whipped cream on his upper lip this time.
Without thinking, I reached across the table and wiped it away with my thumb. The moment I touched him, a jolt of electricity shot through me, and Ethan froze, his eyes widening. I pulled my hand back quickly, my fingers tingling.
"Sorry," I muttered, licking the whipped cream off my finger without thinking. I froze immediately, the taste of him on my tongue sending tingles down my spine. My wolf nearly leapt out of me, forcing a shift right there in the middle of the coffee shop.
Why the fuck had I done that?
"No, it's... it's fine," Ethan said, his voice slightly breathless as he stared at my lips. "Thanks."
The silence that followed was charged with a tension I couldn't ignore. His scent had changed, mingling with something sweeter that made my nostrils flare. Desire. It was unmistakable, and my wolf recognized it instantly, responding with a primal hunger that took all my willpower to control.
I cleared my throat, trying to regain my composure. "So… how’s Portland treating you? Getting settled in?”
Ethan grinned knowingly. “Oh… we talking about personal stuff now? No longer just professional?”
I rolled my eyes, fighting back the smile that threatened to form. "Just making conversation."
"Sure," he said, taking another sip of his latte, his eyes never leaving mine over the rim of his cup. "Portland's fine. Different from what I’m used to. Smaller, quieter... except for the mysterious cattle mutilations, of course."
"Of course," I echoed, trying to ignore how the afternoon light caught in his blonde hair, giving it an almost golden glow. "And the job? The Gazette treating you well?"
Ethan shrugged, his fingers fidgeting with the cardboard sleeve on his cup. "It's a step down from where I was before, but it's a chance to rebuild. I, uh... I had some issues at my last position."
My curiosity piqued despite my better judgment. "Issues?"
He hesitated, and I could smell the shame that suddenly rolled off him. "I got a bit... obsessed with a story. Crossed some lines I shouldn't have." His voice dropped lower. "Cost me my job, my reputation, and almost my career."
"What kind of story makes someone risk all that?" I asked, genuinely curious.
He turned his gaze toward the floor, the scent of shame growing stronger. “I uh… don’t really want to talk about it.”
"Fair enough," I said, letting it drop. The reporter's sudden vulnerability made my chest tighten in a way I didn't want to examine too closely. "We all have things we'd rather not discuss."
Ethan looked up, his green eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my wolf stir restlessly. "Like how you knew my heart was racing earlier?"
I stiffened, cursing myself again for the slip. "I told you—"
"You can see the artery in my neck. Yeah." His gaze never wavered. "Except you weren't looking at my neck when you said it."
Damn. Observant little human. Most people would have accepted the explanation without question. But Ethan wasn't most people, was he?
"You're a journalist," I deflected. "Reading people is part of your job, isn't it?"
"Reading people, yes. But hearing their heartbeats?”
“I didn’t hear it,” I lied. “I just… noticed your tension. It was a good guess. I pay attention.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, clearly not believing my lie. His discerning look only lasted a moment before he seemed to let it go. “So, I didn’t peg you as a crotch rocket kind of guy,” he said at last, nodding toward the window where my bike was parked out front.
I tensed slightly, my eyes following his gaze to my Kawasaki. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing bad," Ethan said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Just pictured you more as a pickup truck kind of guy. You know, rugged, outdoorsy."
I couldn't help but smirk. "You've been picturing what kind of vehicle I drive?"
The flush that crept up his neck was immediate and satisfying. "I didn't mean—that's not what I—" He took a breath, composing himself. "It's the journalist in me. I notice details, make assumptions."
"And what other assumptions have you made about me?" I asked, leaning forward slightly.
Ethan hesitated, his scent shifting to something more complex—curiosity mixed with that same sweet undercurrent of attraction. "That you're not just here because you wanted to talk about those cattle attacks." His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "That you're… here for other reasons."
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. This human was too perceptive for his own good. My wolf bristled beneath my skin, uncertain whether to view him as a threat or something I should claim as my own.
“Other reasons?” I said, trying to feign ignorance. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Uh, huh,” he nodded. “Sure, Jan.”
I furrowed my brows in confusion. “Who’s Jan?”
Ethan just laughed. “Clearly there are some movies you’ve missed out on.”
His laughter was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite my better judgment. There was something disarmingly genuine about him that kept catching me off guard.
“So,” he said, leaning across the table. “What would you say about taking me for a ride on your bike?” That smile of his told me all I needed to know. “Strictly professional of course.”
My body tensed. I knew I should say no. Taking Ethan on my bike meant having him pressed against me, his arms around my waist, his scent enveloping me with nowhere to escape it. My wolf practically howled with approval at the thought.
"I don't think that would be a good idea," I said, though the words felt hollow even to my own ears.
"Why not?" Ethan challenged, the reporter's persistence shining through. "Afraid I'll mess up your bad boy image?"
"I'm not a bad boy," I growled, perhaps a bit too defensively.
"Could've fooled me," he replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Leather jacket, motorcycle, brooding expression. You're checking all the boxes."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't brood."
"You're literally brooding right now."
I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me. "You're impossible."
"So I've been told," Ethan said, finishing the last of his latte. He looked at me with those green eyes that seemed to see right through all my defenses. "One ride. What's the harm?"
I let out a long, drawn out sigh. “One ride,” I grumbled. “A short one.”
Ethan stood up, finishing off his latte. He held out a hand. “Well? Come on bad boy. Let’s go for a ride.”